


Sadism

by smokalicious



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya Bolton, Arya Stark - Freeform, F/M, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Light BDSM, Ramsay Bolton - Freeform, Sexual Content, Sexual Sadism, Sexy Times, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:51:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5287892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokalicious/pseuds/smokalicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay Bolton has found and wed and bed the REAL Arya Stark. Let's see what happens...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Without Warning

Arya POV

“Are you a virgin, my lady?” Ramsay asked as he stalked towards Arya Stark. They’d just been wed. Arya didn’t know him well, she’d dined with him but didn’t know much of him. She’d heard stories about him and his father, they skinned their enemies mercilessly. There were rumors Ramsay enjoyed an interesting form of sport. He hunted women he’d get bored of through the woods like animals, killing them and most likely skinning or burning. He had pets, people he’d torture and break down to nothingness. She’d never seen one of them, but she imagined the sight wouldn’t be a very pretty one. Arya couldn’t judge Ramsay, though, after everything she did. After everything she enjoyed doing. Killing. Avenging. She pretended to be a boy for a small amount of time, made friends, lost friends, served Tywin Lannister, was practically kept as a prisoner with the brotherhood without banners, got kidnapped by the Hound and killed multiple times, and became a faceless man. She was once no one. That part was seared into her like a scar she couldn’t get rid of.  
“Now-a-days that doesn’t seem to matter. So why ask?” She asked casually. She couldn’t come out and say she wasn’t. But, she wouldn’t lie either. Not when it could be thrown back in her face later on. She didn’t plan on staying long, anyways. They’d forced her here, they’d somehow found her, captured her, and made her marry a Bolton. The son of a man that killed her brother and mother. She’d give him what he wanted, a Stark bride, but that’s all he’d get. She’d probably end up killing him if it came to that, and she wouldn’t hold back.  
“I ask because I like my wife's… Unused.” He snarled. He walked closer to her, standing just before her. He wasn’t very tall, but he still hovered over her. He looked down at her, examined her like an animal would to a mouse. And she did the exact same, except she couldn’t look down so she only looked up. She didn’t care if he thought she was too weak to take him, she didn’t care if he thought she was innocent, she’d end up beating him all the same. “Are you a virgin?” He asked again, this time through his teeth. He kept a smile, though. But, she could see straight through it. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over the front of the ridiculous dress they’d made her wear.  
“Yes.” She lied. Technically when she’d lost her maidenhead she was wearing the face of another. Technically no one had lost their virginity. Even though it marked her body the same.  
“You’re lying.” He said tilting his head to the side. “I don’t like being lied to, my lady. It’s not a very good way to start a marriage.” His tone turned, and his smile seemed to look more and more fake. She didn’t flinch, she wasn’t afraid of him.  
“Yes, I am lying. You’re going to have to deal with it, my lord, many people lie.” She said, keeping her tone neutral. “I’m sure as a Bolton you’d know that. But, of course you’re technically not one.” That made him truly lose it. His nostrils flared and the smile was wiped from his face. That probably wasn’t the best idea. But, she honestly didn’t care. The look on his face was priceless. He deserved it. Treating her like he owned her. She wouldn’t be one of his little pets. She was a Stark of Winterfell. She bowed to no one. She couldn’t hide the smirk that grew on her lips.  
His tone settled down and he attached his hands behind his back. He put on another small and plastic smile and said, “Remove your clothing, now.”  
“Remove your clothing.” She retorted, regretting it. She didn’t want him to think she wanted him. He wasn’t the worst looking man-- certainly not the best looking-- but not the worst. He was smirking, actually smirking. She’d amused him.  
“Remove your clothes or I’ll rip them off.” He threatened, his smirk turning into a look of either lust or anger, she couldn’t tell.  
“No.” She said, she was doing this on purpose. Setting him off, annoying him, she wanted him to feel this way. She wanted him to know that she wasn’t some bitch for him to fuck whenever he pleased. She was the one in charge, man or no man, she’d own him before he even thought of telling her what to do. Carelessly, she gave him a taste of his own medicine. She reached up quickly, and ripped jerkin by the buttons, a few falling the the ground and the fabric breaking. She grazed a portion of his skin that his tunic didn’t fully cover, leaving a small white mark. He didn’t wince by it, instead he looked like he enjoyed it. But, not enough. There was a hint of a smile on his lips, it looked real.  
“I liked that jerkin. And you ruined it. That calls for punishment.” He said, even though he was grinning devilishly. She narrowed her eyes and slapped his hands away when they shot up to rip her clothes. She’d barely taken anything off, if he ripped her dress he’d expose skin in seconds. He growled but she immediately rips his tunic open revealing his bare chest. He had no hair, which she supposed wasn’t that bad. “Even more punishment.” She shrugged and waited. She could handle anything he had to throw at her, she’d experienced far worse. He tilted his head and then brought his hand up, he wasn’t fast like she had been, he left her waiting. He knew she wouldn’t do anything to stop him and he savored that. Teased her with it. Much to her annoyance. She let out an angry sigh and he smirked. He brought his hand upward to the upper part of her dress that had the smallest amount of flesh showing, grazing his fingertips teasingly, riling her up purposely. He then retracted his hand and she rolled her eyes. Pansy, she thought. But, then he brought himself closer and brought his hand to her thigh clutching it tightly enough to leave a bruise. And, oddly enough, she didn’t care, she enjoyed it. His hand roamed until they found exactly what he was looking for, the dagger she had strapped to her skin. The blade had been scraping against her skin the entire night but she didn’t react to it, not once. How in seven hells could he tell through the sixty layers of skirt she was stuffed into?  
He kneeled slightly in front of her and brought her skirts up, arching her leg so they would fall back down. He yanked the dagger down, breaking the rope against her leg. It stung slightly, and would add to the red mark that had already started, but it wasn’t enough pain to keep Arya Stark down. She was better than that. She wasn’t afraid of this Bolton bastard. He admired the blade as he brought himself up to his legs. One hand arched behind his back as he normally did, and the other twirling the dagger in his hand effortlessly. He still had that smirk on his face, that psychotic smirk he usually had. It was taunting to most women, but she didn’t let it faze her.  
“Finely crafted blade, I assume it’s from Braavos?” He asked flicking his blue eyes to her, they reminded her of a man she once knew from when she was a child. His eyes were a deeper shade of blue, like the ocean. Ramsay’s were like ice boring into her. They were tempting and vicious, the blue eyed man she once knew was opening and innocent. When she was younger she might have admired that, but the woman she had been molded into, the monster she had become.  
“You assume correctly, I’ve saved it. It’s probably my favorite blade.” She said, not bothering to mention needle. She didn’t know Ramsay well enough to tell whether or not he’d try to take it to anger her. She didn’t want anyone to know of Needle, she had it since she was a girl. Jon Snow had given it to her seven years ago before he left to join the night's watch at the wall. She missed Jon, whether she’d admit it or not-- but, he was dead now. And she didn’t to think of the never ending list of dead family members she had wracked up in her head.  
“I see. So it must be very sharp.” He said, mischief in his tone. She felt her lip involuntarily twitch.  
“I never carry a dull blade, my lord.” She said bluntly. It was true, she’d never bother with dull knives. She’d only carry the sharpest of the sharp, it was easier to kill with. If she needed to go to such lengths she’d grab the nearest kitchen knife and stab the person's eyes out. But, usually she had one strapped to her thigh of between her breasts.  
“Excellent.” He said and then as quick as he could he brought the blade up and ripped it downward from the top of her dress to the midpoint that went out to a skirt. She couldn’t help but gasp, she frankly hadn’t seen it coming. She’d expected him to cut her skin or something, even if it was a rather predictable for someone like him. Her breasts didn’t spill out, but because she had them bound tightly to her chest. She didn’t like when they hung free, they got in the way of everything. She didn’t have remarkably large breasts, but she didn’t have small ones either. She was in the middle, the sagged slightly but they held to her chest properly and her nipples were a nice color… But, she still didn’t like them. It wasn’t that she was necessarily self conscious, they were just annoying. She liked to fight and ride, she didn’t need her chest moving up and down. Small clothes didn’t help very much, they kept them looking less pointed but they didn’t keep them flat against her chest. Oddly enough Ramsay smirked outlining the fabric with her dagger.  
“Do I humor you, my lord?” She asked arching an eyebrow. She would cross her arms but the tip of the blade was still pressed against the bindings, near the midpoint of her breasts so she didn’t feel very much pressure.  
“In many ways, my lady.” He said flicking his eyes to hers. “I’m just glad that your chest wasn’t as flat as I thought.”  
“Are you now?” She said, even though it was clear why. He nodded and then brought the dagger up a bit and cut down the middle of her binding with ease. She couldn’t say she wasn’t relieved to have the pressure released, she could breathe steadily now. She let herself slump forward as her breasts spilled outward. He moved his other hand upward and moved the fabric away from her to get a better look. He didn’t pull it off, not completely, he just moved it around and tucked them behind the sides of her breasts revealing her. She arched her shoulders backwards slightly, unsure how to react. Somehow she felt self conscious, like they didn’t look as nice as others. But, she shouldn’t care what some Bolton bastard thinks of her. He’d have her way with her, she didn’t care, and that’d be that. But, no, he had to move slowly leaving her waiting for him to pounce. She didn’t like this, being the prey against the wolf. She was the wolf, she hunted her prey. He brought the blade back up and traced her nipple making her breath hitch. It felt good, the coldness against her, especially there. It was sensitive, the knife only made that intensify. He traced her other one and she felt a warmth spread from her chest to her thighs. How could she be so weak? How could she allow Ramsay Bolton, the son of Roose Bolton a man who murdered her brother and mother to make her feel arousal. Husband or not, she shouldn’t be allowing someone like him to do this. But, she did.  
He trailed the dagger down to the skirt of her dress and pressed it outward letting a breeze move down her, even with her small clothes on. She tried to keep her breath steady but failed, it was more the anticipation than anything. He was hardly doing anything. He moved forward slightly and put a hand on each side of the opened area and ripped it downward without warning. He then cut the sides of her small clothes letting them fall to the ground. She wasn’t naked, not completely, but he could see mostly everything of importance. He couldn’t see her arse or the specifics of her cunt, but he could see her bare front. His tongue darted out and he licked his upper teeth.  
“Are you wet yet?” He asked cocking his head to the side. She was incredibly wet, she didn’t get that way with most of the men she’d fucked were too ugly to get her aroused, not to mention the fact that they took her like she was a hole in the ground. Nothing painful, but she wanted pain. Not a dry cracking pain in her cunt but more of a blade to skin type of pain.  
“Why should that matter? You’d take me either way. Why bother with asking if I’m wet?” She asked, honestly curious.  
“I like a slick entrance.” He shrugged. She furrowed her brows, most liked a tight entrance. He wasn’t most, he was himself and that was enough to be abnormal. “Now, are you wet?”  
“No.” She lied. Without any sign he plunged a finger inside her making her spread her legs slightly. She whimpered, from both pain and pleasure-- along with pleasure from the pain. He moved his fingers around inside of her, flicking a small tender spot she didn’t even know existed-- it only added to her shameful please. It didn’t seem like he was trying to make it feel good, it almost felt as if he was trying to make her fear him. She frankly found it funny, she’d been through far more than most girls of her age, she’s killed more people than she can count. She was a faceless fucking assassin. She was fear no one. She knew men that could break him in half with their little fingers. Hell, she could even break him in half with her little finger.  
“You break my heart with your lies, little wolf.” He said with a grin. She glared at him, his fingers were still swirling inside of her. She let out a breathy sigh and he chuckled letting them fall out of her. She growled in frustration and he laughed more. He was angering her and enjoying it. In an act of rage she scraped her nails against his chest drawing blood from the top of his peck to the bottom of his stomach. There wasn’t much, but it was enough to please her. Roughly he grabbed her by the back of the head, gripping roughly on her short brown hair. It only went just barely past her shoulders so he had to tug near her roots making it sting more. But, the sting surged through her in a good way. Using his other hand he tipped it in his blood and brought it to her mouth. Something about the look of his blood mixed with her juices was enticing. Before he could thrust his finger in her mouth she licked it. He smirked and then moved his hand to her cheek rubbing the moisture across her cheek.  
She began to grow impatient and yanked the strings of his britches, fumbling in frustration. He laughed and pressed himself further out. She mumbled “fuck it” and ripped them downward and off. He wasn’t wearing any small clothes. His penis was only half hard so she reached down and took him in her hand, pumping from the base to the head. He wasn’t small, he was actually quite large compared to the men she’d fucked. She was glad for that. She felt it harden and bit her lip. She’d never touched one before, usually she avoided doing something like that. But, she couldn’t help herself. The skin was soft but it felt hard, like the hilt of a sword with a bit of fabric over it. She heard his breath hitch a bit and she tightened her grip, he groaned. Just for the sake of seeing him in pain she tightened it even more, he grunted in discomfort but she only smirked.  
He liked it, she knew he did. Regardless he grabbed her hair again and pushed her in direction of his desk. Using his other hand he cleared the clutter, even though there were several rusty knives, and picked her up. He wasn’t merciful when he dumped her on the wood and stood between her legs. He began to take off the rest of her dress as she took off the rest of his clothes. As soon as they were naked he reached between them and quickly positioned himself to her entrance. He thrusted himself in, without giving her time to adjust to the feeling and moved more immediately. She enjoyed the way her walls stretched out over him and convulsed every time he pushed in. She let out breathy moans with grunts in between from his fingers digging into her hips and his teeth scraping against her shoulder and neck. She brought her hands up to his upper back and began to rake her nails along his flesh. She drew a few scrapes of blood but it wasn’t enough. She lifted her knees to rest just above his butt and began to move her hips upward to get him deeper. She then clenched her hand and dug deeper into his skin letting blood trail down his back. She felt him groan against her skin and couldn’t help but smirk.  
She pushed her body forward hard enough to make him stumble back and then urged him to the ground. Somehow she was strong enough and he fell to his back, she held tightly so she wouldn’t fall. He was still inside her so it made it easier. She placed her thighs around him and her knees to the cold ground as she began to roll her hips. She didn’t find this to be enough, she liked the way his cock felt buried deep inside of her cunt, but she needed to see him bloody and whimpering before she could even consider finishing let alone allowing him to.  
She guided her palms across his chest mixing with the blood and brought them around his neck. She began to speed her movements and put her thumb in the middle and pressed. She hoped this would leave bruises, the idea of him not being able to breathe made the sides of her mouth twitch. She was now full on choking him and his eyes were wide and blue his mouth gasping for air, but he didn’t try to stop her. He moved his hand to her hips and began to thrust upward. She let moans escape her lips, she wasn’t going to torture herself keeping them in any longer. She was too far gone to give a shit. She could hear her moans echoing off the walls.  
His face had now turned a light shade of red and she released her grip, she didn’t want him passing out or dying-- at least, not yet. She moved her face down and put her teeth over his lower lip and bit down, hard. Hard enough to draw blood, which she did. But, he didn’t move his face away from her, instead he savored it and nipped at her upper lip. She released her bite when he grabbed her butt and flipped them over so he was hovering over her. He grabbed the underneath part of her knees and brought them up over his shoulders as he continued to pound into her. She brought her hands to his black hair and began to tug roughly. He buried his face into his neck and bit into the thin flesh of her throat. She let out a yelp and then eased into the sharpness.  
Though he seemed to struggle at holding back he stood up releasing himself from her. Confused she looked at him as he tugged her up to her feet. He smirked putting a strand of her hair behind her neck and then turned her around swiftly. He positioned her in front of the bed and motioned for her to climb on it. She complied, crawling forward. Before she could turn around her placed his hands on her hips. She could feel him moving behind her and she began to grow impatient. She didn’t say anything but she huffed out a breath of air loudly enough for him to hear.  
“Testy, aren’t we?” He said with a chuckle. “I still haven’t properly punished you for ripping my favorite jerkin.” He ran his hands along the cheeks of her reer and she sucked in a breath of anticipation. He removed his hand, rose it high, and then slapped downward against her arse. She jumped forward, only slightly, and let out a gasp. It stung continuously but she couldn’t help but like it. Both of his hands placed themselves on either side of her hip, tightly enough to leave bruises. She could feel him straighten his posture as he placed the tip of his cock back at her entrance. She bit her lip in anticipation. He didn’t ease into her like some gentle lovers would, he thrusted directly into her without leaving any time for adjustment. Not that she really needed any. He pulled out a bit and then pressed back forward letting out a groan. She moaned too, not caring how stupid she must sound nor how loud she must be. The third time he thrusted into her she shrieked due to him hitting that one special spot deep within her. The one he’d hit earlier with his fingers. This time it was much more intense. She couldn’t see him but somehow she could tell he was smirking with pride.  
“My, oh my, little wolf. I’ve only ever made my whore Myranda shriek like that.” He said. She furrowed her eyebrow. She had no clue who Myranda was though it was quite obvious someone like he would have whores. She didn’t particularly care, to be honest. He was her husband but that was about it. He wasn’t a bad fuck, though.  
“Who…” She began but he thrusted again hitting the spot once more. His thrusts began to get faster and more consistent and she loved every second of it. As long as he kept pressing that spot he could do pretty much whatever he pleased.  
He moved his torso downward, placing his hands against the bed. His head placed near hers, her eyes had fluttered closed. He continued his thrusts without mercy, not that she wanted any. He was groaning as well but her moans were more intense. She wondered how well men actually liked fucking, if they really liked it more than women. She knew women had the upper hand with it, that they were more restraint and able to control their urges. But, that didn’t mean it wasn’t just as good. It certainly felt pretty fucking amazing. She had all sorts of spots down there, he only had one thick and long shaft.  
“Yes, little wolf. Moan for your husband.” He commanded against her earlobe. She did moan, faintly, her eyebrows pressed together as if she were trying to find something. The burning in her core began to intensify. He rose again placing his hands back at her arse. “Scream for me!” He shouted spanking her roughly. He did it twice more in the same place making her core begin to practically throb. Her screams filled the room, echoing over and over again as she came. He began to spank her other cheek gripping her other thigh tightly as she rode out her high. Soon after he came inside of her, milking around her walls. She savored that feeling of something jolting within her. She fell flat on her stomach once he pulled out of her.  
They fucked several more times that night alone. Ramsay was far too exhausted to move to another chamber or force her to sleep somewhere else so they slept side by side in the same bed.


	2. Domiance

Ramsay POV

Ramsay awoke to an empty bed. He knew his new wife, Arya Stark, had slept in it last night but she’d decided to leave early in the morning. He really didn’t care, he’d prefer to have a nice morning fuck with her but he supposed he’d have to settle for Myranda. Myranda was probably angry with him because he’d promised to see her last night after the bedding ceremony but didn’t. She’d get over it, he decided. All she was was his whore, after all. He could’ve killed her a long time ago, she was lucky to be alive. She was lucky he found her amusing.  
He got out of bed stark naked and admired himself in the small mirror. He had small almost noticeable bruises around his neck from where Arya had choked him. Myranda had choked him before, many times, but she’d never really been strong enough to leave marks with her small hands. Arya on the other hand probably hated him, which only fueled her will to cause him pain. He didn’t mind it much, as long as it was kept within the bed chamber and didn’t end in his ultimate death.   
Since he basically had no idea where Arya was and had a major morning erection he decided he’d go and see Myranda after all. He put on a simple tunic and pair of breeches angling his cock upward so it wouldn’t make a tent. He didn’t bother with much more, he didn’t have to get fancied up for Myranda. He wasn't sure if she minded but he frankly just didn’t care. It wasn’t his job to impress her, it was hers to impress him. She’d literally be killed if she began to bore him. He’d killed plenty of boring women in the past, Violet and Tansy were good examples. He’d killed Violet because she was stupid enough to get pregnant, she was a well enough fuck but he didn’t need any bastards on his hands. He’d killed Tansy for two reasons, one, she’d stopped fighting him and two, Myranda had gotten jealous. He’d granted her that one ounce of jealousy, mainly because it made her even more wild in bed just to keep his attention.   
-  
“Ramsay.” Myranda said immediately after he entered the doors of the chambers he’d permitted her. She sounded angry, which made him roll his eyes. “You never came last night, you promised you would after you were done with that whore wife of yours.”  
“I know what I promised, Myranda. But, you know me. I lie.” He snapped.  
“You don’t lie to me.” She whined making him roll his eyes again. She’d become rather clingy lately and it wasn’t very appealing to him. He needed to put her in her place. “What’s so good about your whore wife that would make you stand me up?”  
“She’s rather rambunctious in bed, Myranda. Very eager for my cock.” He explained. Perhaps she wasn’t eager but he liked to think she was. Ramsay simply shrugged it off and began to remove his clothes. “Strip, Myranda. Now. I haven’t got all day.”  
She looked at him for a moment then complied, as she knew she should. She knew she wasn’t in a place to deny him anything. She knew what would happen if she did. What he’d do to her. He’d done it before, he’d even let her assist him a few times. Like with Tansy, a sweet little girl who’d done whatever he asked of her. They’d chased her through the woods as a part of his favorite hunting game and then fed her to the hounds.  
Once they were both fully naked he stroked himself a few times before using his other hand to push downward on her shoulder so she’d get on her knees.   
“Was she a good fuck?” Myranda asked before she kissed his tip teasingly, a little too teasingly for his liking. He wanted to fuck her mouth. And he would whether she liked it or not.   
“Of course she was.” He said bluntly. He wasn’t going to lie to her to make her feel better. She then swiped her tongue across his tip briefly making him groan in frustration and slight pleasure.   
“Better than me?” She asked looking up at him through her eyelashes. He knew exactly what she wanted to hear. She was trying to trick him into lying for her. He wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.   
“Myranda, remember what I said about jealousy.” He said. She leaned downward so she was sitting on her legs and looked at him with a frown on her face. “It bores me. You would never bore me would you, Myranda?”  
She looked at him as she flared her nostrils and clearly grit her teeth and then leaned forward quickly taking his length into her mouth. Her nose pressed against his stomach and he moaned as she gagged. She brought her head back and then forward gliding her tongue along him and he leaned his head back. She used her hands to fondle his balls which tightened slightly at her touch. She’d always been good at sucking him, probably from all her practice. She leaned backward letting him fall out of her mouth completely but continued to work him up and down with her hands. They were so small they could just barely reach all the way around him. She looked up at him with a smile.  
“I would never bore you, my lord.” She said and then began licking him up and down. She swirled her tongue over his tip and then took him completely into her mouth. He began to rock his hips slightly in and out of her mouth. He put his hands on each side of her cheek and thrusted forward, faster as the moments went by.  
“Oh, that’s a good girl, Myranda. Such a good girl.” He said, thrusting mercilessly into her mouth. He put his hands on each side of her head to make his movements less sloppy. He knew exactly how she liked it, she liked it hard and rough. As did he, he liked the little gagging sounds she’d make as she tried her best to make eye contact.

\--  
Arya POV

Arya heard a knocking at her chamber door and furrowed her eyebrow. She hadn’t sent for anyone, perhaps it was Ramsay looking for another fuck. It was his proper duties as a husband and future lord of Winterfell. He needed to do all he could to guarantee an heir. She didn’t mind it too much, he wasn’t too shabby as a lover. She’d fuck him as she pleased and hopefully she wouldn’t have to see him otherwise. As a person she despised him, and his father. They were the reason her brother and mother were dead. Roose Bolton himself stabbed.  
Arya opened the door to reveal a slightly taller woman with long ash brown hair. She had a smile on her face that reminded Arya of Ramsay’s, he looked so fake like he was trying to seem happy. She was looking as if she wanted to stab Arya but was trying to contain herself. Arya didn’t trust this strange woman. So she decided to keep her guard up.  
“What?” Arya said simply raising an eyebrow at the girl as she leaned against the door, ready to slam it in the girl's face if need be.   
“Lord Ramsay sent me to draw you a bath. You want to be clean and fresh for your new husband, don’t you, my lady?” The girl asked. Arya cocked her head to the side and looked the girl up and down. She was rather skinny, not too much taller than Arya. Arya had killed men over a foot taller than her. She could take this scrawny thing.  
“Of course.” Arya said, even though she didn’t care to try for Ramsay. He didn’t deserve the effort. Not yet, at least. Probably not ever.

\--  
Arya laid back in the tub as Myranda grabbed a cup of water and poured it over Arya’s hair. It still wasn’t very long, it only went slightly past her shoulders. She hadn’t cut it in what seemed like forever. She may have to in the soon future, it was getting rather annoying. It’d give her a good excuse to not have to put it in stupid formal stylings.   
“You must keep Ramsay happy, my lady.” Myranda said. Arya rose her eyebrow in confusion. Why exactly would this random girl care for that.  
“And why is that?” Arya asked looking up at her. The girl had a blank expression on her face, Arya couldn’t tell what she was thinking.  
“Ramsay gets bored easily. You wouldn’t want to end up like the others.” Myranda explained. Arya would’ve asked for her to elaborate but she knew the girl would do that on her own. “There was Kieran, she was rather annoying, she talked and talked. Let’s just say Ramsay didn’t like it, he grew tired of it. Then, there was Violet. She had the most gorgeous blonde hair. She made the mistake of getting pregnant, and that’s rather boring. Then, there was Tansy. Such a sweet girl, but you know how they are, they get rather dull after a while. Ramsay allowed me to come with him on that hunt.”  
“Hunt?” Arya asked, finding herself curious.  
“Hunt. Have you ever seen a body after the dogs have been at it? It’s not very pretty.” She explained. Ramsay enjoyed hunting people? Interesting. Arya would find out more about that from him.   
“And, your name is? You seem to know a lot about my husband.” Arya said as she stood up after having her hair cleaned. Myranda brought a cloth to Arya’s skin and delicately scrubbed.  
“Myranda, my lady. Yes, me and my Lord Ramsay are quite close, you could say.” She said with a soft laugh that made Arya roll her eyes. It was clear what was going on here. Myranda was the woman Ramsay had mentioned the previous night. She was in love with Ramsay and thought she was special. But, after Ramsay got legitimized he had to have a proper highborn wife. That made Myranda unhappy and clearly jealous. It was naive of her to feel such things. Arya turned around completely to face Myranda, revealing her breasts shamelessly. Many have told her she’d grown into her Tully beauty over her most recent years. She felt her nipples harden as the cool air reached them.   
“You thought you could scare me off, is that it? You love my husband so dearly, he loves fucking you-- for now. What did you expect to accomplish? I’m not afraid of you, Myranda. Nor am I of Ramsay. I was a faceless man, do you know what that is? Of course not. It means I’m well trained in the art of killing. I could have you killed right now if I wished.” Arya snapped. Myranda didn’t flinch but she tensed, probably in frustration. She seemed to lose her temper because she threw the washcloth on the ground and exited immediately. Arya scoffed slightly and leaned back in her tub.

\--

Arya waited on the bed in her chamber not feeling the slightest bit of tiresome come over her. She’d rarely been tired in a while. She usually had to fuck someone or drink alcohol. She thought she might as well try, but it didn’t seem to be working very well. She figured Ramsay would be by sooner or later. That or he’d be fucking Myranda.   
But, then the door opened and Ramsay stepped through. He was all dressed up in his little Lord outfit. If she didn’t know any better she’d have guessed he wasn’t a bastard born recently legitimized. It was quite interesting how you could dress a common boy up as a highborn man and make it believable.  
“Get out of bed and take off your nightgown.” Ramsay ordered. She sat up in her bed and looked at him with an eyebrow risen. Did he not get it yet? He couldn’t command her to do anything. She was always the dominant one. It was just the way she liked it. She wanted to tell him what to do, not the other way around.  
“Take off your clothes first.” She said tilting her head to the side as she leaned back on her hands. He turned to her and rose his eyebrow as well.  
“I’m your husband and it has come to my knowledge it’s your duty to allow me your body.” He said. She narrowed her eyebrows and scoffed.   
“I’m your wife and it has come to my knowledge it’s your duty to allow me yours.” She retorted. He chuckled and walked towards her. He took off his cloak and let it fall to the ground. He also discarded his jerkin and threw it to the ground near the bed. He put his arm toward her and positioned her on the short way of the bed. He hovered over her and smirked as his hands trailed down her side. He bunched the fabric of her nightgown and let his hands roam to the mound of her sex. He ran his thumb over her clit and her breath hitched.  
“You don’t like to be out of control? You hate to not have control.” He whispered in her ear. She let out a whimper as his index and middle finger traced her clit teasingly. “I will have you whimpering under my tongue in seconds.” She wasn’t sure what she should do. She could establish dominance and give him pleasure, making him whimper for her. Or she could allow him to give her pleasure. Which did she want more? Dominance or pleasure? She could always take pleasure for him then establish her dominance some other way. She could start with his little whore Myranda. Treat her a lesson after trying to intimidate Arya. That would have to make Ramsay angry, which in its own way was a good thing. It’s not as if she had much to lose. He moved his lips to hers and bit down on her bottom lip. He bit down hard enough to draw blood, which he did. And she groaned at the feeling. It was piercing but she liked it. After he was done he began to suckle on the wound and then brought his lips down to her neck. He bit slightly, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to leave a bruise and a few teeth marks. He trailed bites down her body until he reached her sex.   
He licked over the lips teasingly, not giving her exactly what she wanted. He sucked on the skin around her special spot leaving small hickeys. She groaned in frustration and he laughed. He was starting to irritate her. She spread her legs further and rocked her hips upward toward him. He tsked at her and when she was getting ready to say something he swiped his tongue over her clit. Her hips bucked from the surprise and she could feel him smirk against her. He hooked his hands under her thighs and squeezed the inner side of them. He put his lips around her clit and began to suck on it making her release a breathy moan. He sucked on it a bit and then pulled away making a smacking sound. He gave her a few brief licks before he put open lips around it and ran his tongue along it, up and down, sometimes in small circles. He earned a few moans here and there. She wasn’t really one to give them out freely. Especially not with him. With him stuff like this was a game. A game in which she had to win. She’d let him have a sense of security, allow him to give her an orgasm here and there, but then she’d make him feel weak. She needed to if she was going to survive this marriage.  
He moved one of his hands off her thigh and pressed the tip of his index finger against her hole making her sigh in anticipation. His licks never ceased as he pressed his finger inside of her. She groaned as she gripped the sheets around her. Perhaps she was being a little too enthusiastic for her own liking. Those thought seemed to leave her mind completely once he entered a second finger inside her. It made her feel full, but somehow not as full as she wanted to be. Something was missing, deep within her core. He had sizeable hands, especially in comparison to hers, but they weren’t long enough to get to the right spot.  
“Ramsay.” She groaned tilting her head back against the sheets. She felt pathetic for practically begging for the feel of his cock to be inside her. She hated how he had her whimpering against his surprisingly skilled tongue. He probably loved it, which was probably why he was bothering. If it weren’t for some selfish gain he probably wouldn’t have bothered to bring her to a pleasurable peak. Her thoughts stopped her from continuing on with her request.  
He looked up at her through hooded eyes and thick black eyelashes, her vision was blurring around the edges, she could practically see stars as his tongue lashed up and down against clit. Her arms sprawled back above her head clutching at the fabric of the sheets of her bed. She let out a strangled moan as she tilted her head to the side, her cheek pressing against her shoulder. She could see as the corner of his lips twitched in a smirkish grin, never ceasing with the actions of his tongue. She was surprised he was this good at it. Knowing him she wouldn’t think he’d bother getting his whores off. Perhaps he did it for Myranda. He seemed to be fond of her. At least, as fond as he was capable of being. Arya felt as if she should mind something like this. Her husband fucking another woman-- numerous women, probably. But, she didn’t find it as much of a big deal as other woman would if they were her. It seemed insignificant.   
She began to feel herself nearing her climax, the sweet bliss of completion. It was building up in the pit of her stomach, a familiar feeling of bubbling warmth. She felt as if there were a dam deep inside her just waiting to break free. She was so close she could almost feel it. But, then, he stopped. He pulled his fingers out of her completely and his tongue was off her before she could come. She groaned in frustration and slammed a fist against the bed in frustration.  
“Gods damn you, Ramsay Bolton.” She said as she brought her head upward to get a better look at him. He had a satisfied look on his face. His eyes were dilated, black filling in the light shade of blue. He was lustful, she could tell just by looking at the pale tone of his already white skin. He was flushed and his cheeks were a soft color of pink. He moved his body upward to climb on top of her. She could feel the hardness of his length press against her thigh, strained against his breeches as he made his way to hover of her smaller frame. His face went down to meet hers, it was almost a kiss. His teeth bit down on her lower lip and in retaliation she bit at his upper. It may not draw blood but it would leave a small red evident along with teeth marks. He released from her suddenly. His lips wide obnoxiously.   
“I told you I’d have you whimpering beneath my tongue. Now, I’ll have you whimpering as you come around my cock.” He leaned upward so he was on his knees before her. He was taking off his tunic throwing it off to the side of the bed. It was surprising how quickly he was able to take his breeches off, freeing his length for her to see. It was reddened, he was clearly holding back. Which made her smirk as she bit down softly on her bottom lip. It was rather sore but she didn’t care.   
“Tell me what you need, m’lady.” He said slowly as his hands went down to wrap around his penis. He was teasing her, she knew that. She knew exactly what he was doing with her. He wanted to make her feel inferior. He wanted to be the boss of her. He wanted to make her into another one of his little pets. She refused to be something like that. Not for a man like him.   
She chuckled at him. It was something to get her up on her feet. She leaned upward on her elbows smirking slightly. He was short but he was well built. Muscular, even. Probably from all of his various hunts. She found herself curious as to how he did these things. She knew he liked to hunt his whores as if they were animals. He liked to have a prey of some sort, apparently. He liked to feel dominance. It brought him satisfaction. She didn’t want him to feel satisfaction, not when it came to her. She wanted to be in charge. She deserved to be. If she couldn’t have Winterfell or the North she could at least break down the man who was set to have her family's lands.   
She was lucky to have the training she did, or else he would be able to do anything to her. She was glad to have the upper hand that she did. She was trained by the most notoriously known assassins. She used her legs and her arms to flip him over so that he was on his back. She placed one of her hands on his chest to keep him down right where she wanted him. She moved both of her hands to grab his wrists and place them above his head on the arrangement of pillows.   
“Keep your hands there or I’ll cut them off.” She warned as she readjusted herself to straddle the middle of his stomach. Inches away from where his cock stood stiff. It was her turn to tease him. If he thought it was okay for him to deny her an orgasm, she’d do exactly the same. No matter how much she desired to feel full inside. She found herself wanting to glide down his length. But, she would control her urges. All for the feeling of contentment. She wanted him to wither beneath her.  
He surprisingly didn’t move his arms, he kept them exactly where she’d put them. She put each of her hands on his chest brushing right over his nipples. She used that as leverage as she rocked her hips back and forth, casually moving against the flesh of his stomach. Her arse would occasionally bump against the side of his cock, but not enough to get him off. Only to make him puff out a breath in frustration. That satisfied her. She felt the friction helped with the tension she felt in her core, but it wasn’t enough for her to feel the wonderful bliss of her soon to come release.   
“What is that you want, Ramsay?” Arya asked as she moved more quickly. Her wetness began to spread on his skin for him to see as he looked downward briefly. “Come on, tell me. I won’t give it to you if you don’t tell me.” He grunted and she laughed.  
“I want to fuck you until you scream my name.” He growled up at her. His hands began to move upward but she placed hers over them as quickly as she could.  
“I told you not to move your hands.” She snapped. He lowered them, luckily. She wasn’t up for fighting on the matter. “It is rather ironic, you know. That you wish to fuck me until I scream for you when you’ll be the one screaming for me as I ride your cock.”  
He shifted slightly as he looked up at her. He didn’t speak, but the look in his eyes had anticipation. She could tell he was holding back from flipping her over and ramming into her without a single shred of mercy. His cock was practically throbbing as she wrapped her hands around it. She leaned up on her knees as she hovered over his length. So close to touching it. She was looking forward to sinking down on him, frankly. She could tell he was too.  
“How much do you want me to fuck you, my lord?” She asked, using a proper title to get a reaction out of him. His eyes widened slightly, lust filling them. They were dilated and his lids were hooded.  
“Very much, m’lady. I want to be fucked thoroughly.” She was glad to hear him comply to her need for him to need to fuck her. She craved his needs somehow. It made her feel like she was in control. She wanted to be in control. She wouldn’t let him be in charge of her ever. If she was going to be a Bolton, she’d do it right. She was exactly where her family deserved to be, Lady of Winterfell, Wardeness of the North.   
“Are you desperate for me to fuck you? To ride you until your vision blurs and you come inside me?” She was full on teasing him at this time. For some reason she found herself wanting him to either beg or get angry. She wanted to see some sort of reaction out of him that wasn’t smug and obnoxious. He was always so smug, as far she was aware.  
“So very desperate, my lady.” He said in a low and husky voice. “I want to feel those small hands of yours around my neck. I want you to mark up my chest with your nails until I’m bleeding. Let me come inside of you, pretty please?”  
“Say please again.” She commanded and there was a hint of a smirk on his lips. She wasn’t sure if he was making fun of her or he actually enjoyed this. Either way she couldn’t find herself caring much. She felt her how warm her core was growing and how wet she was. The evidence of her very intense arousal was spread all over his lower stomach clear for the two of them to see.   
“Please. Please oh please let me fuck you.” He said. His voice was as stiff as a board but she swore she heard a grunt and pant somewhere in the midst of his sentence.   
“Except, you won’t be fucking me. I’ll be fucking you like the little lordling you are. You won’t be able to lay a finger on me unless I say you can.” She instructed. He grunted in response. He suddenly looked frustrated as he tried to push his hips upward. That only made her move so there was no longer contact between their bodies. She tsked him and then moved back down and lowered her head until she was hovering over his. “If you do try to touch me without my permission I’ll hack off every one of your little fingers, put them on a string, and wear them around my neck.” He smirked at her and before he could say anything she roughly pressed their lips together. Kissing with him was strange. It was far too intimate for their brand of marriage. To avoid any of that fluffy bullshit Sansa would often speak of she’d bite at his lips hard enough to leave bruises or draw blood. She bit his tongue and dragged it outward before releasing and straightening herself. She was dripping wet and he was throbbingly hard.   
She grabbed his cock with her right hand and lifted it so it stood up high and she pressed the head against her hole teasingly. Slowly she lowered herself on him. She felt herself stretch around him with each inch. He was a rather large specimen, she had to give him that. She was soaking wet so there wasn’t much resistance. She tilted her head back slightly feeling her mossy brown hair tickle her back. It wasn’t very long since she’d cut it all those years ago but it was growing a little every coming year. When he was finally all the way inside her making her loins tingle she let out a shaky breath of anticipation. Her thighs pressed tightly against his hips and she felt him move his hips in slow eager circles. She brought herself up until he was completely released from her and then slammed her body downward. He groaned this time making her bite down on her swollen bottom lip.   
“Oh, Ramsay. You’re very big and thick, aren’t you?” She said.  
“Yes, yes I am.” Ramsay said, his voice breathy.  
“Look at you.” She said as she opened her eyes, hooded lashes in her slightly blurred vision. His hair was mussed up from being pushed against the feather filled pillow and his face was flushed with pink cheeks. “So desperate to come inside me, aren’t you? So weak beneath me.” She made sure to use her most intimidating but faint voice. His hands shot up and then down to her hips and he rose her up and down a few times. She wanted to let him pump in and out of him without head but that would mean giving up dominance. She growled at him and pushed his hands away but he snarled back at her and kept them in place pressing harder into her porcelain skin. She rose one of her hands from his chest and struck him across the face, hard. His cheek was now even redder than before. He looked up at her with slight shock that was replaced with a wide grin. She smacked against his neck. She knew that put a damper on his breathing because he practically choked. She smacked one of his pecks and then the other leaving small red welts. She had a strong hit, she’d learned that years ago in the House of Black and White. She dug her nails into the skin of his left peck and began to drag them downward she did it once more starting from top to bottom and then a third time. Finally, blood began to draw. She swivelled her hips in small circles with each assult.   
She felt a burning sensation begin the build in her core. It was warm and inviting. She brought herself up and down on his cock bouncing up and down. Her breasts jiggled slightly and her nipples hardened even more (if that was even possible). She felt herself needing something to push her off the edge. Not much, just a bit of rubbing at her favorite little bundle of nerves that rested just above the hole of her cunt. The hole that was filled with his large and slick cock. He was close too. She could tell by the way his eyes shut tightly and his bollocks drew up and brushed against her arse.   
“Rub my clit, do it. Now.” She demanded, not asked. Without waiting for him to go along and do it she grabbed his hand and placed it just where she wanted it. He shifted so his thumb was pressed right against it. She tilted her torso backwards and gripped his thighs with both of her hands. That gave him a whole other angle to thrust up into her. It made it so the tip of his cock pressed against a delicately sensitive spot deep within her that made her tremble and let out louder moans. She cursed the gods names without a single care and convulsed around him. Soon later he was calling out and coming inside her.


End file.
